


War Stories

by johnnygossamer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnygossamer/pseuds/johnnygossamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an au. <br/>this is a story about two brothers who never found out what killed their mom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	War Stories

On November 2nd, 1983, Dean runs out of his childhood home as it falls to the ground, full of smoke and too-hot flames. In his arms his baby brother looks about worried, but he doesn’t make a sound. Dean waits next to the 1967 Chevy Impala waiting for his dad and mom to come out.

Only John makes it out, his face soaked with ash and tears. Except in this story, he never investigates what had happened to his dear Mary.

In this story, the Winchester family grows up never knowing what killed Mary.

John is a loving father, he always was. He treats his boys well, makes sure they grow up to be real men, smart and tough. They still have their fights, but they stay a tight-knit family. Nothing could keep them apart.

Dean graduates high school just as Sam is entering it, and he is so proud of his brother that it shines on his face for at least a week after. Dean laughs and tells him to quit it, it’s just a piece of paper, but Sam knows that he loves the praise.

A year later, when Sam is fifteen and catching up to his brother, Dean signs up for the Marines. He thinks it’s what he could be best at, what he could really do to help the world. John approves, he’s proud of his boy for being brave. Sam tells Dean that night that he shouldn’t do it. Dean only sighs and says good night. He knows he’s breaking his little brother’s heart, but this is what he has to do.

When Sam graduates high school, it isn’t at all what he pictured. Sitting next to his dad, out in the audience, should be his brother, not some three-hundred pound soccer mom. Sam puts on a fake smile and thanks the principle kindly before rushing off stage and into John’s arms.

“Dean should be here, Dad. It isn’t fair.”

John nods and hugs Sam tight. He tells Sam he knows, that he’s sure Dean wishes he were here for this too.

A week before Sam is supposed to leave for Stanford, Dean Winchester stumbles into his life again, quite literally. Sam opens the door Monday evening to fetch the newspaper that’s been sitting there all day and there is his older brother, all muscles and bruises and scars, tripping over the doormat and into Sam’s not-so-weak-anymore arms.

“Hey Sammy. Miss me?”

Sam holds his brother so tight that neither of them can breathe. He whispers things into Dean’s neck, his ear, his jaw, because now he’s the taller one and he’s holding Dean up with no effort at all and jesus christ Dean got skinny. When he pulls away to look at his older brother, he looks so much smaller. He’s tiny next to Sam now, has to tilt his head up just so their eyes meet, but he’s all grins and he complains about Sammy getting’ all teary-eyed for nothing.

When John comes out, his eyes are shining too, and he claps Dean on the back and welcomes him home, how was Iraq, make any friends, were you a proper soldier like your daddy was? Dean laughs and he tells Dad and Sam all about his tour, all the things he did and the people he killed and saved. He’s proud of himself, but he’s weak, tired. Sam manages to pull Dad away from him and usher him up to his old room so he can get some proper sleep.

“You okay Dean?”

“Yeah, fine as always, Sammy. Something bothering you?” He says it with a smirk.

“No. Just missed you.”

“You too man.” His dog tags clink together as he takes them off, his own alongside John’s from Vietnam.

“You have some new scars.”

“Yeah, wanna see ‘em?”

Dean spends the next two hours showing his (not so little) brother each and every new scar he gained from the war. There is one cutting the corner of his left eyebrow down to his temple, from a shard of glass flying at his face after an explosion. A long, deep one runs across his right bicep to his elbow, curving around like a graceful ribbon of ripped-up and healed tissue. He pulls off his pants and shows Sam the tear of skin in his leg where he was stabbed, and an infected wound that had to be burnt away on the side of his foot. He regales his brother in the stories behind each scar, and it reminds Sam of the nights they would spend in a tent in the backyard making up tales about ghosts and vampires (and how ironic is that, that two brothers who spent their lives hunting these things would joke about them, because they never actually hunted anything at all) and how Dad was secretly a werewolf because he snored so loudly it shook the walls.

It’s two in the morning by the time Dean and Sam are finished trading stories, catching up with each others lives, syncing themselves back with each other like they’re used to.

When Sam wakes up, it isn’t from John’s snoring. Someone is screaming their lungs out, and Sam is pretty sure it isn’t him (nightmares get worse and worse each time) so he rushes to Dean’s room and finds his brother curled into the corner of his bed where the walls meet, screaming and screaming and waving his hands like he has a knife, like someone is after him. Sam dives towards Dean and yells at him, yells his name, Dean Dean wake up you crazy bastard its just a dream, and Dean snaps his bright green eyes to look at Sam.

“S-Sammy?”

“Yeah man, it’s me. Calm down. You’re safe.”

Dean goes limp in his arms as he realizes where he is, where he actually is, in his bedroom and not in the sandy hell of the Middle East. Sam holds him close and mutters to him, says everything’s okay, it’s okay, he’s here. Sam pulls back to look at his brother and the light in Dean’s eyes is gone. Dean is mostly limp, still sitting upright but not moving, not looking anywhere.

“Dean?”

No response.

Sam panics. He calls Dean’s name at least twenty more times, waves his hand in his face, shakes him, but Dean is unresponsive. The word catatonic flashes in Sam’s mind from Health class, and he runs over to wake John up, but even their father’s persistent voice and hands do nothing to snap Dean out of whatever horrible memory is probably playing on loop in his head right now. John tells Sam to go back to bed, maybe if they leave Dean alone he’ll come out of it. Sam worries all night and ends up with only three hours of sleep behind him, but when he wakes up Dean is already getting dressed and smiling like he used to.

“Rise and shine, Sammy!”

But Sam can’t forget that horrible empty look in his brother’s eyes from last night as they stared straight through him. He has a feeling he’ll be seeing them again soon.


End file.
